


I Can't Keep Up With Your Turning Tables

by teenuviel1227



Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Light Angst, M/M, Pining, Some Fluff, brian is the token straight friend, jaepil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 08:11:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13244136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teenuviel1227/pseuds/teenuviel1227
Summary: n which the boys play in an electropunk band and Wonpil thinks Jae hates him. Jae doesn’t hate him at all--and actually kind of likes that sweater.





	I Can't Keep Up With Your Turning Tables

**Author's Note:**

> Just a disclaimer before we begin: I am not a JaePil writer but I wanted to write this for my friends who are. This is actually the first fic that I uploaded on here for Day6 a couple of months ago but took down because I didn’t think it was good enough (like I said, I’m not a JaePil writer hahaha). So. I hope this is worth your time. :) 
> 
> PS I will properly proofread in the morning because ya gurl needs her sleep. 
> 
>  
> 
> [Twitter](http://twitter.com/teenuviel1227)  
> [Blog](http://teenuviel1227.wordpress.com)  
> [Curious Cat](http://curiouscat.me/teenuviel1227)

Wonpil watches Jae restring his guitar--long fingers tightening the tuning pegs, hair falling into his eyes, catching the light just-so. The Fender’s wooden neck is cradled in his arms, the rest of the guitar across his lap. Wonpil tries not to let his gaze linger too long on the way that Jae’s veins peek ever-so-slightly through the milk skin surface of his forearms. They’re all sitting in Brian’s garage, getting ready for band practice.

“Cheesesticks?” Brian asks, offering Jae a still-hot plate as he walks back into the garage from the kitchen. The smell of fried wanton wrappers and melted cheese fills the air. “Freshly fried.”

“Thanks, BriBri.” Jae grins, slinging his guitar strap around his torso before winking and taking one. “Oh fuck--that’s super fucking hot--”

“Yo, I said _freshly fried_!” Brian yells but it’s too late.

The cheesestick does a flip as Jae tosses it into the air, sucking on his fingers where they’ve been burnt. Wonpil tries not to watch as his tongue flicks against his spit-slicked lips, instead focuses on the cheesestick now making its way down to meet the linoleum surface of Brian’s garage. He moves fast: tugs on the sleeve of his pink sweater so that it covers his hand, catches the cheesestick and holds it back up to Jae.

“Woops. Blow on it first, hyung--”

“--snack stealer.” Jae snaps, smirking as he plucks the now just-hot-enough cheesestick from Wonpils’ fingers. He bites into it with a crunch before devouring the whole thing pretty much in one go.

Brian grins, ruffles Jae’s hair. “Watch it, butterfingers.”

“Thanks, BriBri.”

Jae glances at him. “You’re a snake, Wonpil.”

“He saved your cheesestick, hyung,” Dowoon says from where he’s sitting behind the drum kit. “Play nice.”

“I’m _nice_ to Wonpillie,” Jae says, grinning as he starts to sing Wonpil’s name to a tune that Wonpil hates for being so catchy. “Pillie Pillie Wonpillie yeah--”

Wonpil feels his cheeks get hot. “--you’re so strange, hyungie! I don’t understand what you’re trying to--”

“--Parseltongue!” Jae exclaims, pointing at Wonpil.

“--what?” Wonpil shakes his head. “See it’s stuff like _that_ \--

“--I always thought that if I was going to be sorted into a Hogwarts house, it’d be Slytherin. Because I can speak to you, Pillie. You’re the band-silisk--”

“--are we going to practice or am I going to have to listen to Jae Kathleen Rowling give his Pottermore address of the nation?” Sungjin asks, exasperated from being ready to play for well over an hour. “Because I have a final to study for and if we’re just going to kick it in Brian’s garage eating snacks while you two do this _thing_ then I’m going to head back and--”

“--we’re _going_ to practice,” Brian says, stuffing a cheesestick into his mouth, wiping his hands on his jeans and strumming his bass once, twice. “Now if the children could please stop playing--”

“--I’m older than you, Kang Brrrrah,” Jae says, rolling his eyes and taking his place beside Sungjin. “”Come on, Pil. Time to stop sulking over the tragedy that is your sweater.”

Wonpil frowns but gets up and takes his place at the keys, tries not to let it show how badly it stings whenever Jae says shit like that--you’re a snake, your sweater sucks, you should shave your head, show us those photos of your perm. He tries not to let it show that mostly it hurts because there are times when he catches Jae looking at him for just a beat too long, times when he’s almost tender, putting an arm around Wonpil, times when he’ll drop a compliment here and there whenever they’re alone or he thinks the others aren’t listening: you’ve got nice eyes, Pillie. You’ve got the kind of face that’s _handsome_ handsome, Pil. You’re so good at playing the piano, I’ve always kind of wished I could learn to play.

That’s the stuff that keeps Wonpil, well. Here, watching Jae’s back as he poises to play--the length of him, that oddly attractive, awkward swagger. Wonpil catches the smile that Jae shoots Brian as Dowoon counts them into the first song--an electropunk banger about finding love in a club. His heart lurches.

He sings the words, plays the melody, knows he’s on-key, but his mind is elsewhere.

The past few months have been a different kind of torture--Wonpil hadn’t ever like _liked_ anyone like Jae before. The first time that Brian had introduced them to him--his words being: fellow music major, new roomie, he’s just in from California, banging taste in tunes, also kinda hot if you ask me--Wonpil’s first thoughts had been: please, please, please let him be gay and single.

Also please, please, please don’t let him be into Brian.

Jae takes his part on the pre-chorus and his voice sends shivers down Wonpil’s spine. He closes his eyes, trying to focus on its texture, on the breathy tremolo, on the way it breaks before it bleeds into the last note before Sungjin takes over the chorus.

Wonpil sings the small _ahhhh-ahhhh-ahs,_ plays the staccato notes. Grooving on the outside, still trying not to sulk on the inside.

Brian starts to sing the second verse on the chorus. Wonpil’s always admired Brian’s range--the stable tone of it, no matter what pitch he sings. Another look: Brian winks at Jae. Jae throws his head back and laughs before singing the next verse.

_Get your head out of the gutter._

Brian is their token straight friend, so not like it’s going to happen anyway--but still. Everyone is into Brian. _Not that I blame them._ He’s gorgeous: confident and funny and sweet, talented and smart and just _that guy_ everyone wants, regardless of whether or not they could have him.

_Guess I didn’t wish on a genie because only one of those things came true--he’s gay, sure. But he hates me. He fucking hates me. And probably likes Brian._

Still, Wonpil finds himself smiling as he sings the next pre-chorus, his favorite bit in this song because he and Jae sing on it together. He likes how their voices sound: how Jae’s low notes blend perfectly with the higher pitch of his own--they’re the softer voices of the five of them, the gentler ones and rarely get to sing together. It’s his favorite sound in the world.

The song ends. Jae turns to him. Wonpil feels his heart skip a beat, his stomach do a little flip.

Jae tosses his head, shakes his hair out of his eyes, putting his pick between his lips in that way that drives Wonpil a little bit crazy. He looks right at Wonpil.

“You’re off by like, a millisecond, Pillie.”

Wonpil feels anger replace awe--he’s taken it just a bit too far. Wonpil knows he can take a lot of teasing-- _Dowoon_ is his bestfriend, for crying out loud--but Jae’s never gone for his _music_ before.

“No,” Wonpil says, meeting Jae’s gaze. “You’re _early_ by a millisecond.”

Jae’s eyebrows furrow.

Wonpil lowers his gaze.

“Pillie--”

“--let’s just play it again.” Wonpil keeps the shake out of his voice, keeps it curt when all he wants to right now is cry. He nods at Dowoon. “Count us in, Dowoonie.”

Sungjn and Brian exchange a knowing glance.

Wonpil hates it.

Jae opens his mouth as if to say something but is cut off by the sound of drumsticks as they hit each other.

Dowoon counts them into the song.

Wonpil sings and tries not to sulk, watches Jae with the want simmering in his veins.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

 

Jae thinks Wonpil is the most beautiful person that he’s ever laid eyes on--honey skin and bright eyes, a smile that could probably work as a landing strip beacon, in Jae’s opinion. The first day Brian had introduced them at the rented studio space, Jae knew that he was in trouble.

“Pillie, this is Jae, the guitarist I was telling you about who’s rooming with me this term. Jae, this is one of my bestfriends, Pillie.”

_Bri’s bestfriend. Now bandmate. Fuck._

Jae’s bad at staying friends with his exes, is an all-or-nothing kind of guy. He has a pretty strict rule when it comes to dating: strictly doesn’t date his friends--and most definitely doesn’t date friends of friends. You don’t shit where you eat and all that. And he literally ate in Brian’s house, in Brian’s kitchen: the only rent he can afford at this point.

But there was Wonpil’s voice, the way he half-closed his eyes whenever he played the piano. And that god forsaken sweater--for all its pink, bright, gaudy glory, is Jae’s weakness: that particular shade setting Wonpil’s skin off just the right way, bringing out that hint of gold in it, illuminating his features, illuminating everything that makes Jae weak in the knees, turns him not-quite-right in the head.

_So to hide it, you acted like an actual idiot. High-five, self. You’re officially an asshole._

Today, Jae is lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, hugging his pillow close to his chest and cuddling with his mingled guilt and desire to _do_ something about it. He hadn’t meant to be so mean, had really just been kidding around. He shuts his eyes, tries not to think about the hurt as it flashed across Wonpil’s face, tries not to think about the tremble in Wonpil’s lower lip as his eyes grew glassy in that instant before he looked away.

He hadn’t meant to be mean but the feelings were coming at him again and he panicked--because there was Wonpil, being perfect, saving his snack, diving in like some grecian hero to save his too-hot cheesestick from plummeting to the ground. There he was with his deep brown eyes framed by thick lashes, looking up at Jae, his hair swept up and back into his reversed snapback. There was the line of his jaw, his bright smile, the sweet laughter in his voice.

“Why don’t you just tell him how you feel?”

Jae jumps out of bed. The pillow hits Brian square in the face, knocking the apple he was about to bite into out of his hand.

“What?”

Brian grins. “You’ve been lying there for ten minutes with that look on your face.”

Jae raises an eyebrow. “You trying to fight me, BriBri? What look? The _I need coffee look_?”

Brian rolls his eyes.

“The I-think-Kim-Wonpil-is-hot-but-don’t-want-it-to-show-so-I-act-like-a-second-grader-and-now-I'm-ashamed look.”

“I--” Jae blinks, his mind blanking.

“--he does laundry on Sundays,” Brian says, bending down to pick up his apple. He takes a bite. There is a crunch, the sound of chewing. “On the rooftop of his and Dowoonie’s building. If you don’t mind the clean blankets flapping in the wind, it’s kind of romantic. You can see the river from up there.”

“You’re crazy,” Jae says. “I’m not going to go and do something _romantic_ for Wonpil.”

“Mmmkay.” Brian grins, winks at Jae before sauntering out of their shared bedroom. “Maybe I’m crazy, but at least the person I like doesn’t think I hate them.”

Jae flops back onto the bed, resigned. “Fine. You win this time.”

 

The rooftop overlooks Gangnam, the river running down its side like the sparkling hem on the skirt of the earth as the mid-morning sun illuminates everything. Wonpil leans on the washing machine as it rumbles, the water gurgling in the hose before it pours into the chamber. He glances down to make sure the timer is set to 35 minutes, waits to see his clothes start spinning through the round, glass door before he turns his cap on backward, pulls his phone out of his pocket and starts playing an oldie but a goodie--Candy Crush.

Since band practice ended the other day, he’s decided to just not think about it. He sighs, pulling a combo--a sparkly flash glimmers on the screen, he gets a special disco ball candy. After giving it a lot of thought and yes, thinking about it for hours on end, and yes, crying a little in the shower, he’s decided to just let it go. He could quit the band and still be friends with everyone: they’d all been friends way before Brian had put the band together anyhow. There’d definitely still be movie nights at Sungjin’s and he would probably room with Dowoon for the rest of his life and of course, Brian is his bestfriend so that’d still definitely be in tact.

So, Park Jaehyung is beautiful and hates him and--

“Pil?”

Wonpil drops his phone--he braces for impact but it doesn’t come. He looks up and into Jae’s ridiculously handsome face.

Blonde hair, glasses, soft lips, oversized plaid. _Get a grip._ He holds Wonpil’s phone up to him. Wonpil snatches it out of his hands. “Phone stealer.”

Jae grins weakly. “Look. I hope you don’t mind my being here--Bri told me that you’d be here and I just wanted to say sorry for--”

“--for insulting my music? For always saying mean stuff to me when I do nice things for you? For always picking on me and calling me names in front of everyone--”

“--I know, I--”

“--I’m not done,” Wonpil says, straightening up. His voice is quiet but dripping with pent-up contempt, hrt. “Because the real thing that I hate is that you don’t act like that when we’re alone. When we’re alone, you tell me all of these stupid things that drive me crazy. You tell me that I’m handsome, that I have a nice voice that you like looking into my eyes. What the hell is wrong with you? Did I do something to you when we first met that you didn’t like--”

“--no, I--”

“--still not done!” Wonpil sets his phone on top of the washing machine with a bang. It clatters against the humming of the metal. “Did I offend you in some kind of way? Are you _ashamed_ that you’re my friend? Is it because you like Brian--”

“--he likes fish exclusively, does not partake in the sausa--”

“--so you would if he _wasn’t_ straight? I knew it! I knew it. And you’re jealous because we’ve been friends for a long time. That’s why you hate me. Well, congratu-fucking-lations because--”

“--Pil--”

“--why do you hate me so much, hyung?” Wonpil’s voice cracks. When he looks up at Jae, his eyes water. His lip quivers.

Jae opens his mouth to say something but nothing seems enough, nothing seems to quite encompass what it is that he wants to say, has been wanting to say for the longest time. Instead, he settles for stepping closer, tilting Wonpil’s chin slowly toward him before looking into his eyes. He wipes away the tears that brim over as Wonpil blinks.

Wonpil’s heart is thundering in his chest. Jae is so close--he feels the warmth of his breath as he speaks. Jae’s hands are soft, warm.

“I’m sorry, Pillie. I don’t hate you. Not one bit. I think you’re kind of perfect, actually--”

“--whaaat--”

Jae holds a finger to Wonpil’s lips. It tingles where they touch. “--shhh, my turn--”

Wonpil smiles despite himself.

“--you’re handsome, which is why I keep saying so. Your voice is beautiful and I’m sorry for picking on you so badly the other day. See, the problem is that I think you’re the most stunning person I’ve ever laid eyes on. You’re talented and smart and sweet and kind and you let me borrow your computer--”

“--of course--”

“--and I’ve had the biggest fucking crush on you since I met you--”

“--oh.”

Wonpil feels his cheeks heat up.

“But it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way. I just wanted to tell you. I hope it doesn’t change things between us. You can just be like _sorry, Jae, I don’t see you that way._ I’ll be fine, promise.” Jae smiles at him but his expression is hopeful, waiting.

Wonpil grins, the smile tugging slowly at his mouth from one corner to another. Softly, he presses his palm to Jae’s cheek. Jae blinks down at him. Wonpil slides his hand toward the back of Jae’s nape, leaning up, their eyes fluttering shut as he pulls Jae into a soft kiss. Jae sighs into the kiss, both of them parting their lips to let the other in. It’s warm, tender. Wonpil likes how Jae tastes faintly of coffee, Jae likes the way that Wonpil is sweet like candy. Wonpil wraps his arms around Jae’s waist, tugging him closer. Jae brings his arms around Wonpil, holding him close. A breeze blows across the rooftop. Jae’s heart is beating fast, hard, but that’s alright because he’s holding Wonpil close enough to feel his heart beating for him too.


End file.
